


Perfume the Air

by DrummerWench



Series: Toby and the Merlin [4]
Category: MCGUIRE Seanan - Works, October Daye Series - Seanan McGuire
Genre: Changelings, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-06 21:01:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8769181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrummerWench/pseuds/DrummerWench
Summary: “Smell this one,” said Libby, wafting a strip of paper under my nose.We were in her still-room in the basement. It looked like an alchemist's kitchen, with glass and copper distilling equipment on the counters, vials and bottles lining the shelves, and bunches of herbs hanging everywhere.I took a whiff. It was startlingly close to Tybalt's pennyroyal signature, at least as much as a non-magical scent could be.





	

“Smell this one,” said Libby, wafting a strip of paper under my nose.

We were in her still-room in the basement. It looked like an alchemist's kitchen, with glass and copper distilling equipment on the counters, vials and bottles lining the shelves, and bunches of herbs hanging everywhere.

I took a whiff. It was startlingly close to Tybalt's pennyroyal signature, at least as much as a non-magical scent could be.

“That one's easy. I won't be able to match the musk odor exactly, though,” she said. “I can get close with herbal musks, but his signature is true musk, from the musk deer. It's an endangered species, and both expensive and unethical to use for scents.”

Libby's nose for signatures was better than anyone else I knew, newly fae notwithstanding. Her years as a professional herbalist meant her mental catalogue of odors was truly impressive, gained through hard work, not magically like mine.

With her transformation to true fae, for the first time she could detect the full magic signatures of her husband, daughters, and her own augmented scent, mint and horehound.

“Fascinating!” she had said. “I wonder if I can match scents to people's signatures?”

So now I was sniffing paper strips, each adorned with a drop from her amazing collection of extracts. Tybalt was upstairs with Joe, reposing, he said, perfect confidence in my ability to detect odors. He probably meant “odours”, what with growing up in Shakespeare's time.

“What, uh, do you have in mind for these scents?” I asked. We had identified the pennyroyal, cut grass, and copper. Libby had assured me she could mix up something to replicate Tybalt's musk, deer or no deer.

“Well,” she blushed a little. “I plan to make a cologne or perfume that combines elements from both your signatures. Do you ever wear scents?”

“Ah, not on a regular basis. But for special occasions, I do. Yes, I would wear it,” I said.

“There's just one more thing,” she said, sterilizing a needle and pipette in the blue flame of the still burner. “I need ...“

“... blood.” I held out my hand. She pricked a finger and drew up a few drops with the pipette. I had left plenty of blood in Portland—a little more here or there hardly made a difference.

“Your copper signature is clear, but seems to have more or less blood scent included,” she said, “depending on what you are doing.”

I was impressed. I had used little magic around her, barring our intensive work during her conversion from merlin to fae, but this skill was clearly second nature to her.

“Bring up your magic again,” she said.

I did so. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, nostrils flared.

“I think I have all I need.” She turned away, and put the pipette in a vial of clear liquid.

I let my grass and copper dissipate. “Now what?”

“Now we join the guys for an adult beverage. I am done in.” She looked tired, too. “Ordinarily I can do this for hours, but I'm not ordinarily recovering from the Choice. Making the perfume will take a month or so; I'll work on it while I'm getting back up to speed.” She led the way upstairs.

…

A few weeks after our return to San Francisco, the doorbell rang. The UPS gal said, “sign here” proffering an electronic pad and stylus. I signed, and took custody of the large but surprisingly lightweight box. The return address was Green Leaf Herbs, Portland.

“Early Christmas present?” asked May as I tore it open.

“Something like that,” I said. “This should be … interesting.”

On top was a card from Libby, “With Best Regards and Sincere Appreciation” but no thanks—thankfully. She had done a professional packing job, with extra bubble wrap. Inside were two spritzers labeled “Eau de Toilette – October” and “Eau de Toilette – Tybalt”, and two little bottles similarly labeled “Perfume”. 

“Well?” said May. “Try it!”

I extracted “October's” toilet water from its plastic cocoon and sprayed the tiniest amount on my wrist. I waved my arm around a little and held it out to May.

She sniffed, an odd expression on her face. “Do you have your magic up?” she asked.

“No-oo.” I held my wrist up to my own nose. It really did smell almost like my own magic, with just a hint of Tybalt's.

“That could be … useful,” said May, with a carefully neutral look.

“Yes,” I said. “Yes, it could!”

End

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from "The Taming of the Shrew".


End file.
